


Leap of Faith

by black_hat_with_bells



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_hat_with_bells/pseuds/black_hat_with_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Claire tentatively start a friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

Claire knew someone was following her as she walked from the video store back home. She kept turning around to see no one but that feeling of eyes on her back was too strong for her instincts to ignore. 

Her dad had her cell phone, with the standard usual creepy stalker chip, in it, and she had left it at home in a fit of annoyance. She wouldn’t regret it now. What could they do to her? She wouldn’t let them touch her. Claire reached into her bag and pulled out her taser, then ducked into a small alley. She had chosen roads where there weren’t a lot of people on the California street and she was focused on getting this person on her own terms. 

She heard footsteps approaching the alley and she went further in, hiding in the nook. The footsteps were in the alley now. Her heart was pounding, and she had led herself into this mess, but she was calm otherwise, determined. This would hurt them. 

She saw this shadow of a man and she didn’t hesitate. She tasered him in the back. She hadn’t expected the scream through his teeth that followed. It was different than anyone else, and Claire stepped back, watching him on the ground. 

The pain was weird to watch. She stepped further to the back of the alley, ready to run. She looked back and saw him looking out, and he didn’t seem to be able to talk. He had gotten his breath and said, wait, but his voice was gravel. He looked awful. She had just tasered a man who was on his death bed. 

Claire paused, looked out at the street, and then went back. Slowly. 

“Do you need help?”

She tried to be authoritative, though like a really dumb question. He didn’t give her an answer. Not because of his throat because he seemed to just…stare at her. 

“Well,” she said. “I’m going to help anyway. I can. I think you know that. But one question: you aren’t here to….kidnap me or experiment on me. Which you wouldn’t answer that but I just want to be able to say later that I asked or was suspicious.”  
He was staring ahead at the brick wall now. 

“I live—well, I’m not telling you where, but I guess I’ll have to take you there unless you have another place.”

He was shaking his head. 

“Do you not have another place?”

A no.

“Do you want to go to my house?”

A no. 

“Because you can’t," she sighed. He had something to hide. She should walk away. But she thought it through carefully. “The neighbors at the end of the street have moved, uh…I think it was a financial issue. The bank has been trying to sell the house, and it’s open to look around in.”

He nodded, agreeing with her idea. Great. 

She gave the address. “I can meet you there.” She needed to get a syringe, from somewhere. She felt frustrated, she should have just carried one around. She never thought she’d really be allowed to use that aspect of her power unless it was called for or requested. He looked at her again, studying her. Then he nodded.

“You can get there? Right?”

He gritted his jaw. 

“I’ll see you then.”

She was making a mistake. But she could afford to make them. This was her life, and her mistake to make. 

Walking away, she would believe that she had had a choice in the matter.

***

Claire walked in the empty house cautiously. 

She listened, with her hand on the door. She had been careful so far. She had gone around back and found the door opened. Good sign, he was still alive. She had paid for even the small syringe with cash, and it had taken a ridiculous length of time to get it.  
She listened hard and didn’t hear a thing. She’d have to take a plunge. 

“Hello?” she called, walking in further. 

There was movement from the other room and he stepped into sight. He didn’t seem to want to come any closer. 

“It’s just me,” she finally said. She waited for the house to fall on her or something: transform into an evil weird beast from another world, she didn’t know. When nothing happened, she was reasonably optimistic. He stepped into the room and she took out the syringe. 

“This isn’t as weird as it looks,” she said. “Well, it is, but it works.”

She looked up and saw he had already rolled up his sleeves. Suspicious. She walked over and steadied her hand. She thought that needle must have really hurt by the sound he made under his breath. What was wrong with him? She couldn’t truly relate but most people have had shots and didn’t react that way. 

Claire stepped back quickly and close to the door again. She watched him take a deep breath. 

“Are you all right?” she asked. 

He gave her a look. But nodded. She smiled, unsure. She’d ask his name, ask more questions, but he had looked so—she wouldn’t want to be asked anything after something like that. It looked amazingly painful. She put her hand on the door. 

“Wait,” he said, and she looked up at the accent, at the clarity of his voice. “I don’t know how long my health will hold up. Not yet.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. If I healed your body, then why-?”

“My immune system is years behind,” he said bluntly. “I can’t exactly predict the outcome, can I?”

What in the world? She recoiled a little at his tone, her guard up, but then she looked at him again. 

“I guess that is impossible,” she said, sitting down. She waited, looking at her hands. She was still listening to everything around her. She felt him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“How old are you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Seventeen. Why?”

“It was just a question. I asked you so you can feel free to ask me one in return.”

“I think I asked my main question,” she said. He frowned. 

“You don’t wish to know more?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said. “I just don’t think this is the time for questions. Afterwards—then I’m going to have a lot of questions for you.”  
“What if I want someone to know?” 

 

She paused. “If you want to talk, go on.” 

He looked so ill already. “Are you being honest? Would you hold anything against me?”

She braced herself and then promised. 

“Don’t tell anyone about me. They’ll drag me back to rot or they’ll kill me.” 

She could only nod. 

“Swear to me.” 

“I swear,” she said. She didn’t know where to look. She stared ahead and waited. Maybe it wasn’t true. If there was one thing Claire had learned, it was not to take anything at face value. 

And then it happened. He gasped in pain and grabbed the edge of the table. She quickly jumped up and filled a syringe, gripping his shoulder. He pulled away. She didn’t know if it was from pain or if he simply didn’t like to be touched but she took her hand away and gave him the shot. 

“That answers that,” he said, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. “Doesn’t it? I think I’m…how would you say it, in your generation in this fine country. Oh yes. Fucked.” 

Claire opened her mouth. 

“Don’t pretend this isn’t going to be annoying to you. A burden.”

“Oh I’m not,” she said. “It probably will be.” 

He stared at her. His only reaction was blinking but she guessed that was enough of one.  
“But I’m still going to help. I’m going to be annoyed and help. Let’s at least wait and see a little longer until we make that declaration.”

“The declaration stands. It’s only a matter of time. Whether it’s now or later, I’m going to die.” 

had missed that, the most obvious part. She hadn’t really felt such—she felt…

She felt pain. 

He had his body turned away from her, his face turned away. She couldn’t say anything about it. The room and this house, the silence was very loud. She didn’t want to run. She wasn’t a runner, genetics aside. 

In fact, she wanted to stay. She wanted to fix this. 

But he was—he didn’t want her here. Not right now. 

She went into the other room and found a vase full of fake flowers. She used the pen and keys in her bag to bleed out as much blood as she could into the vase. She placed it to the side and left the syringe on the table. 

“I’ll come back later,” she said. “I promise.” 

He didn’t say a word as she left.

***

Claire did what she did best. 

She stayed in the moment, a carefully designed moment. She had things to take care of. She went back home and casually asked her mom for some money to go look around at some stores. Her mom had tried to maintain a cheerful outlook and she probably wanted her to go shopping after—everything. 

She had enough to go buy some supplies. Sleeping bag with an impressive mattress, pillows, a change of clothes, comfortable ones. She tried to guess his size. Claire had to buy some make-up just to cover up her real intentions. Just before she left, she had a flash of inspiration. There was a walkie-talkie section and she thought that would be a good means of communication. 

And so it went on. For a month. 

She was timely. It was hard: she didn’t like seeing the pain. It bothered her more deeply than it should in a strange way. It wasn’t empathy, it was the need to get away from it when she couldn’t fix it. It was hurting her. She forced herself to come because she couldn’t let someone just die. 

He seemed to know. 

“You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?” he asked. It struck her as an accusation. 

“No,” Claire said. “I’m not sweet.” 

“The words that insult this generation. Clearly you’re a sweet girl, you wouldn’t be doing this if you were not.” 

“I’ve done other things,” she said, sitting by him. He looked over at her. “I’ve hated someone so much now, for what he did.” 

“Teenagers often say that, I believe." 

“It's all I think about sometimes. I want to hurt this man,” she said, “I daydream about it. Is that sweet?” 

See, she wasn’t sweet. She just uploaded on this dying man. Maybe it was how he looked, beyond sick, and she couldn’t do a damn thing, as always. He watched. 

“As long as the man isn’t me, I’m quite fine with it.” 

She laughed a little. 

“If that’s the working definition, then I’m not sweet either,” he said. He made a face. “You’re right, that term is annoying.” 

She didn’t ask him what he meant but she felt slightly better. He made a request. 

“Can you get me an untraceable mobile? I want to make a call. See if someone can help me.” 

She hesitated. “You can listen the entire time, if you’d like.”

“I don’t know how to get one?” she admitted. 

He told her. The conversation was vague. 

“I mean to say I had the ability and it was taken.” She watched his face. “Oh no, I haven’t noticed that it’s not working!” 

She recoiled a little. He heard something he didn’t like and threw the phone against the wall, and the look on his face….she didn’t hesitate. She might have but she had her arms around him, and after he tensed—‘get off, I don’t need worthless—‘ he collapsed and pulled her to him, his face in her neck. His breathing was erratic. 

“It only works if I wasn’t born with the power,” he said, half laughing. Only half. “That’s too perfect, that’s…”

He gripped her so hard that it should have hurt her. She stayed the night like that. “You’re still a sweet girl,” he told her, defiant, his eyes strange—it was almost a curse—and considering everything, she couldn’t bring herself to argue. 

“I can help you,” he said after a while. “I know I don’t seem useful but I know things.”

“If you want,” she said. “I’d be here anyway. I won’t leave.” 

He looked half as if he disliked her but nodded, seemingly resigned. 

“If I told you everything, you’d leave.” 

Claire took a risk. “No,” she said. He only half smiled. She went to get the phone.  
***

The eclipse happened. 

So much did. She went back, changed and knowing a new thing about herself. She had been picked out to kill and she could. She didn’t feel enough and she wanted to go to someone, just sit beside him. Claire approached the house, fearful. She had left enough blood, she always did. 

Opening the door, she prepared an explanation. She didn’t know how much she could say.  
He was gone. She checked the entire house, frantic. She thought he had been taken but on the counter, she saw a knife, one she had brought with the prepared dinner. 

It had blood on it but only on the edge. 

She picked it up, fearing the implications. She had a strange feeling, suddenly: she knew he was alive. She looked at the vase and saw the blood there, halfway used. He hadn’t taken it. 

She threw the knife away and realized she would never know. She closed the door to the house and the experience. 

***

Next time she saw him, she had a gun pointing at his head. 

He had a gun pointing at Angela’s head. 

“Well this is awkward,” he said. Angela had had dreams. She hadn’t told her a thing about it except that she wanted Claire to be around her at all times. There was some poison in the house, the air. At first Claire had just thought some British guy had come to murder Angela and here he was: 

Claire’s first irrational thought was ‘he was British?’ since his voice had always been so ruined. Some slang here and there but—

And how is he withstanding the poison?

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said. He looked at Angela. “Why is she here?”

“She’s my granddaughter.” 

Angela was always very composed while being poisoned. “Ah, so that’s what that was,” he said. “You sent her to me.”

“I didn’t realize you— two had met,” Angela replied, haltingly now. He moved his eyes ever so slightly to Claire. Claire was confused, unsure, and he narrowed his eyes. But she was steady. 

“I don’t know what either of you are talking about,” she said, “but I do know that you’re going to put the gun down. Don’t kill her.” 

“Do you remember what you told me?” he asked. “This is very similar to that.”

“Keep your gun on his head, Claire. That’s the only way to kill him,” Angela said. 

That meant....the immune system. It made sense. 

“Stop,” she said. “I’ll have to shoot you first and I don’t want to.”

“I know that,” he said. 

Claire’s eyes hardened and she steadied the gun. “I have to stop you. I can’t let her die. Not while I can stop it.” 

His eyes shifted back and forth, taking in her expression, and she felt his rage. Then he dropped the gun. Claire went to Angela and picked her up, dragging her to the door. 

He made no move to stop her. 

*** 

“So, you caught him,” Claire said hesitantly on the phone. 

“Two days ago. I wanted to put your mind at ease,” Angela said crisply. “And thank you for your help.”

“Yes..” She wasn’t on good terms after the jump. Angela had taken it the worst. “But he didn’t kill you.” 

Angela went quiet. 

“I mean, maybe…”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t form false sympathy with him. You’re a smarter girl than that.”

“I’m just stating a fact. He could have shot you faster than I could have shot him. I know you saw me kill Sylar,” she said bluntly, “and I think I could have this time.”  
“Your familial loyalty continues to impress me.” 

That hurt, and she bit her lip. 

“I’ll give you an address and send someone for you. I have some records hidden away. I trust you not to tell as soul about this place.”

She was pathetically honored and then she hated herself for it.  
“What do you want me to see?”

“His records. Then you’ll understand.”

The car arrived and Claire went alone into the room and read the file. 

***

Claire’s first instinct was that she was glad he was caught. 

Angela wouldn’t have liked this but she took the file. She felt like it was more hers now than Angela’s. She read over it and tried to understand. Then she remembered through her rage, that he had said she’d leave him. He had to hide himself, for years. She knew it was a stupid comparison, just like Sylar might have to hide the fact that he was a serial killer upon first meeting people. But then she wondered what the beginning was. That, and the fact that she hadn’t promised Sylar anything. 

She wasn’t going to believe that there was any implication here that she’d become so…if she hadn’t already…

Claire threw the file to the floor and went to sleep, fighting back, as Angela had said, false sympathy. She did the math in her head and ironically figured out he would have killed her if he had succeeded at first. Her mom and dad if he had succeeded the second and she’d have to live through all that…but was it different? How long could you hold someone? What was a life sentence if you lived forever? 

She closed her eyes, fighting back a feeling of something wrong. 

At one in the morning, she jolted up and rushed to the file. She searched it and found out—

They hadn’t mentioned the property of the blood. Bob Bishop had known and then had mentioned holding her for the blood. She had wanted to, at the time, and she had been in negotiations to send her blood to places in the world, legally and within limits.  
But this file was hiding it. A hidden file was hiding that. 

Then she realized what would be going on right now. She sat in the floor numb. Then she called Angela in the morning. 

“I don’t appreciate your implications,” Angela said. 

“But is it true?”

Angela answered, “It was at the time. Now we are simply holding him.”  
“Where?” Claire asked. No answer.

Claire felt a cold determination rising within her. 

“I want you to tell me now. Right now. Where is he?” 

“You always think you know more than you do,” Angela said. “We’ll discuss this later.”  
In the afternoon, Claire walked out the door and was swamped with reporters. This was usual. What was not usual was her giving a statement. 

She mentioned the existence of the Company. Hinted at it. 

Angela called her and she knew she had lost Angela’s protection forever. 

“He’s been set free. He’ll come to see you, naturally. I hope you can live with the full consequences of what you’ve done.” 

“We both know I will.” 

“You think he won’t hurt you. I thought that too, once, about your grandfather.” Claire was shocked at the confession. “I want you to look up one before I leave you to it: power transference.” 

She hung up. However, Claire knew Angela was seeing smoke where there was no fire. Claire had seen Adam vulnerable and that was a worst offense that pointing a gun in his face.  
He would not come around her just to be friendly or even manipulative. That bridge had been burnt and Claire was prepared to live with that too.  
Claire looked up the word. 

So that’s what it meant. 

***

The speech hadn’t gone too well. 

Monica’s had gone better and Claire was thankful. Monica had her own show now, and she was much more—open. Claire was half jealous. In a good way. 

Her visit to the grocery store hadn’t gone much better, the girl behind the register gawking at her. Claire had looked at her with a smile. She wasn’t going to disappear, as tempting as it was and as much as she sometimes wanted to. She had wanted a normal life and had seen her future trapped in hiding. Now it seemed there was more than one way to be trapped—only she wouldn’t let this happen to her. 

She hadn’t wanted to be roped into it but the more that happened, the more she felt herself drawn in. She escaped to her apartment, trying to look inconspicuous. Angela stopped sending her a car. 

Claire froze when she heard the knock on the door and when she looked through the peephole, she recoiled for a moment. She couldn’t believe it.  
Then she opened the door. 

He had a satchel with him. Claire looked at it for a moment. “Hi,” she said. 

“Hello,” he repeated, blue eyes very innocent. Dangerous. “Can I come in? I have something I want to talk to you about.” 

She stared at him, and it was strange. He did look different than he had when he was so sick. He didn’t have any circles under his eyes. He never would, she realized, and she could never tell what had been done to him. 

“I’m in desperate need of some help,” he said. She had a retort to that but she bit that one back. She let him in. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been at war for two days with this…” He drew something out of the bag and she expected—not a laptop. 

Her lips twitched. “Behind the times?” she questioned. 

“You could say that.”

“I don’t know much about them,” she said. “Not as much as I should.”

“How about this? I try to conquer this abomination and when I have a question, I’ll ask.”  
This was completely bizarre. “Sure,” she said. “I can try.” 

He sat down on her couch and actually started to work on the computer. Claire thought her life couldn’t be stranger. She heard some voices outside and she tensed up. 

“There’s reporters out there,” he offered. “I went around back.”

She hissed in frustration and went to the window. He was right, there was a crowd gathering: she had just gone to the grocery store. 

She started to have a very bad thought. 

“What are you contemplating?” he asked. 

“Hm?”

"You've been standing stock still for ten minutes." 

“…Jumping out the window in the middle of them.” 

He actually smiled at her again. 

“That would only encourage them.” 

She was a one-trick pony. They’d get sick of it. 

“How does it feel?” 

Claire looked up, questioning. He motioned to sound outside. “I’ve always been curious about this possibility. How does it feel?”

To reveal yourself. He hadn’t in years, to put it in the ultimate understatement. Only recently in terms of the Company, from what she knew. 

Claire searched the answer and she had several true answers. But then she said one she hadn’t thought about: “Lonely.” 

He had a look on his face, of something familiar. Then he smiled slightly. “Oh come now. There has to be something more.”

Claire didn’t have anything else for him. “I don’t know. I guess I should have just said I don’t feel any differently.” 

He stared back at the computer. “If it’s a struggle, you know I can help.”

Claire blurted out, “No, that’s all right.” 

He laughed. “I see. Because of what you know and what you don’t understand. You think I’m not a viable source of information now.”

“What? You know so much…I mean, I hope you do.” He scoffed. “I’m not the one who needs help, other people do,” she finished. 

He stood up and walked over to her. “You should know I harbor no resent towards you for your fear.”

Claire’s confusion must have been writ up large on her face. 

“You didn’t return. But I do understand. It’s not a cause for shame.”

She couldn’t even speak for a moment. 

“That’s what you think,” she said in wonder. How could he think that of her? He should just know. 

“There was an eclipse. I would have stayed put too.”

Claire recoiled. “Okay,” she said and that was it. She was deeply hurt by it in a way she couldn’t describe. She didn’t care what he thought as much as someone would think it of her. 

“I’ll visit you later when you’re more open to talking. I’ll let myself out the back, since I can,” he added with emphasis. 

Claire turned to grab that computer and tell him to take it, and never come back. Then she realized—it wasn’t what he thought .It was how he thought. It was all about leverage. Same thing in the new world. Claire had a sudden impulse that she knew was right, even if it was dangerous. 

“I have to show you something,” she said. “Angela sent me to where the records are being kept know, hidden from the government. They had to destroy everything and I think they didn’t have you entered into a data system because of…technopaths, I think?”

He waited. She went to the drawer and opened it. “Before you leave, you should have it. If you’re going to start a new life.”

He took it quickly, flipping through it. “You do realize that Angela would want to kill you for this,” he said, lightly. "At least once."

“It’s not hers,” she said. “Or mine.” 

He was quiet, still looking through everything. She took a deep breath. She’d tell him one last thing before he went. 

“I was shot.”

He stopped, looking through the pages. 

“It wasn’t a big deal since my dad didn’t think it was. But I couldn’t exactly walk down the street. I want you to know.”

“That’s the time you should have come to me,” he said suspicious. “Not walked but sent someone.”

His thoughts were all over the board on this—but she guessed it made sense. She shrugged again. 

“It wasn’t that bad. I’ve been shot before, it just took a little longer. I wish you had contacted me. Let me explain.” 

“I couldn’t exactly send you a postcard,” he said. 

Claire hesitated. “You could have. You left. Just like that.” 

“Don’t go so literal on me,” he said. “You know what I meant!”

“But hey I found out you were alive.” 

He sighed, “It pains me to admit this but I had no idea you were Angela’s granddaughter. My attempt wasn’t aimed at you.” 

“Oh it was definitely aimed at Angela,” she muttered. Something seemed to click for him.  
“I was a bit like you. I never asked for help for over two centuries.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “What changed for you?”

He opened his mouth and then, she supposed, realized that it hadn’t been that much. 

“I asked for assistance in my goals,” he said. “They were always part of something great so it was mutually beneficial.”

She thought this through. The way he said it was hard to hear but she thought she understood. 

“And then they invented the internet,” she said back, motioning to the computer. 

“Yes they did,” he said in an exasperated tone. He looked over at her. “Care to show me more?” 

She must have looked surprised. She had thought he was leaving for good. 

“Battle fields have nothing on technology,” he said and she smiled a little. But her luck was never good. She was showing him basic search engines and he pointed to the screen.

“That would be you, correct?” 

There was a story from a girl, Debbie Marshalls, about how Claire had died in front of her in high school and she had had to go into intense therapy.

“She did not have to go to therapy,” she protested. “I came right back, it was five minutes at most.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, vaguely. 

Claire looked at him. “I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said, worried and a little guilty now. 

“Seems to me you have to reply to the accusation.” 

“I have to admit it?!”

“I wouldn’t go that far. There’s another story here.” 

“I don’t want to look at them,” she protested again. 

“I want to,” he said and clicked. 

“I shouldn’t have taught you how,” she said. 

A police report from a car crash, reporting that the officer had thought it was odd for the car to go so far off the road without any sign of intoxication on the driver. The boy in question has no memory of the event at all, which before was understandable. It was suggested that it be further investigated, considering the information that had come to light. Then that blurb about her being in the hospital during the eclipse.  
She hoped he wouldn’t say anything. 

“You have a problem, there,” he said, and she tensed. “I know you weren’t sloshed at all.” 

Claire opened her mouth, face flushed red. “It’s-it is what it looks like, actually."

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, quickly.

“He attacked me. I know it was wrong, I apologized, I..."

He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have to think up a statement for this one too.”  
“Uh, I’d go to jail.”

“I didn’t say admit anything.”

“I can’t ask you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I’ll be around, how’s that?”

“You know…that would actually help the most.”

He looked vaguely surprised. 

A week later, the police report had been now revealed it had been tampered with before it had been released. Angela had refused to become involved since the Company’s existence had been disclosed and her dad had been under watch constantly as a result of her revelation. 

He never said he had done a thing. 

“They mostly likely did exaggerate a detail or two after they found out,” he said. “It put the whole thing into question if it was detected.” 

He didn’t want credit for it, and she knew now. She had read the report on him. 

“I’m going to take a leap of faith with you,” she said, when he was over there again. He looked up in surprise. “You have to know how hard this is…”

He held out his hand to her: apparently they were going to shake on it. She took his hand. 

“I know you have good--effective ideas,” she said. Oh boy. 

“I know that too,” he said, with a grin. From then on, Adam had a new mission.

One to solely and exclusively bother her. 

***

“Why is no one ever here?” 

Adam asked that question every time he invaded her apartment. She didn’t mean literally, as in home invasion, but it felt like an invasion in frequency. Claire looked up from her notes. A year and a half later, and there wasn’t a day that didn’t have a complicated issue. It had gotten worse. Day by day. Started with people being beaten in school systems and just kept growing. She remembered Adam’s response to that one : it’s not your fault if he can’t dodge a punch. 

“You’re here,” she answered in rote, rolling her eyes at the memory. He stepped right into her circle of papers. 

“Don’t write on the floor, use a desk like a true revolutionary.”

She looked up in shock. “Don’t you have a home?”

“Yes, one full of light and good cheer,” he said mockingly. He was half kidding. He was married, again. He knelt down and Claire got to her feet. 

“I can’t say the same for you. Except for your beau,” he said, looking at the picture of Samuel on the wall. He was, indeed, dedicated to his mission. 

“That’s disgusting,” she said. 

“I didn’t choose your décor. How is old Samuel?” 

“I’m close. He can’t run forever,” Claire said, guarded. She wanted him for herself.  
“You know, surprisingly good things happened today. They passed your…idea into legislation,” he said. “About allowing healers in the medical field if they took a few uh, required courses.” 

He was so annoyed by it. 

Claire started to smile. This was up there with having people be able to grow any type of sustenance possible. Having those people in underdeveloped countries had helped. 

“And this, the first execution of one of us,” he said. “They want your signature.” 

Her smile dropped. “You could have told me that one first.” 

“Yes,” he said. “I debated whether to tell you at all.”

“They need my…and you are in rare form tonight.” 

He shrugged. “I can sign a few documents for you. I can sign this one very easily.”

She looked up at him, hesitating. 

“He possessed the man, Claire, walked around in the body for months. It isn’t a problem for me. They won’t be able to tell the difference in the signature.”

“That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I don’t want you to,” she said, taking the paper. “I don’t think I should be involved. I’m not a lawyer or a judge or jury or…”

“Executioner,” he said. 

“What if I don’t sign it at all?”

He hesitated. 

“You can tell me.” 

“There would be a significant backlash,” he said. She sighed and put the paper down. 

“Later,” she said. Adam looked down too. 

 

“If that’s the case, might I have a drink?” 

She laughed a little. “…Okay. Help yourself.”

He actually did, with familiarity. She sat on the couch, watching him and knowing he’d wander back soon enough. 

She turned her attention to the weather report on her screen. She forced herself to. The hurricane had been reported timely but it was moving very fast. Several cities weren’t being evacuated like they should. 

This had been her focus today. 

“Are you visiting your family soon?”

Her focus shook. He thrust a glass into her hand. 

“No,” she said simply. 

“But you have to visit them this year,” Adam protested. “How else am I going to ruin the festivities?”

“Why would you be there?” she asked. 

“Because you invited us as guests,” he said. Claire stared at him. He meant his wife as well. Claire liked Diana, she was tall and beautiful and she seemed to enjoy Adam’s company. Hats off to her. 

“The lengths you go to antagonize people,” she said. Adam smiled.

“You mean my determination to build bridges,” he said. “It seems that for you, talking to someone is antagonizing. Besides I imagine he’d tolerate my company if it meant seeing you.” 

“Maybe,” she said. Off-handedly. The hurricane was still in the center of her mind, keeping populations. “And I’m not that bad. I’m busy. Talking to people.”

Adam looked dubious. 

“You know it looks good too. Spending time with dreadfully normal family. Symbolically speaking.” 

Claire nodded, and hoped he’d drop it. He should understand, and he’s the one who kept telling her not to get attached, to prepare herself. She was doing it in her own way.  
“I do want to go home,” he added. “I’ve had a day of it. But I want to know what’s got you into such a wretched state.”

She sighed. Relented and pointed to the TV. 

“The hurricane?”

She nodded. 

“Damn thing,” he said and she almost laughed in her drink. 

“Well, the thing is,” Claire said, trying to make him sharpen up, “I’ve been talking to people about providing a relief effort. Getting people out of the path of the storm.”

Adam waited. 

“They said no.”

“And this surprises you.”

She looked at the counter. “I’m having a hard time accepting a no. It’s not a war zone. It’s not political, a natural disaster. And they don’t want anyone involved afterwards either.”

“Afterwards? Afterwards is a little—after the fact, isn’t it.”

She narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know why he came here all the time to bother her. He was married and unlike her, always in the center of a social event. She wasn’t even kidding. She thought it was funny he was considered such a people person. Maybe he was the unfortunate definition of one, the ultimate people-person, right there. 

Claire had thought she was one. Not, not so much. If ever again. Even though she liked to see large differences between them, she didn’t know if she loved this difference.

“I can’t take no for an answer. I’ve been thinking about it for a while today.”

“Is it that important to you?” 

Claire nodded. 

“I suppose I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” 

One time, when he was feeling very philosophical, he had answered her question about being occasionally –numb, lacking, empty, unfeeling, she’d say—by stabbing himself in the arm. It had gotten her attention and he said, ‘just because you begin to feel nothing, doesn’t mean it’s not there’. 

He had been proud of himself for a week after. Claire supposed his company wasn’t that bad. 

“It’s the source of the conflict that’s confusing. Why not simply…” he trailed off, met her eyes and took a sip of his drink. “…stop the hurricane itself?” 

Claire stared at him. “You can stop a hurricane?” 

He gave a little quirk of his lip. She could tell he knew how! 

“Hey,” she said, beaming. “You can stop a hurricane!”

Adam nodded calmly. Oh no. Claire looked at him, expectant. “So?” 

“I would but you are in a wretched mood.”

She glared at him. 

“Perhaps if you pull yourself together, I’ll tell you.” He looked at her face. “That’s a lost cause. I’ll make give you instructions in the morning.”

“In the morning?!”

“Claire, put your mind at ease. It’s not a challenge. I’ve done it before with success. I know exactly what powers to seek out. There’s plenty of time.”

She sat there, watched him leave. Sometimes she really did not…oh who was she kidding, he loved doing it. He’d call eventually. 

It was at three thirty in the morning. 

“Are you still awake?” he asked. 

“I think I’m going to come over to your house tomorrow,” she said. “Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do.”

“Threats are unnecessary. Get a pen,” he said. “And paper.”

She gritted her teeth.  
***

“You may be asking yourself, why are we walking? Where is this devilishly charming visionary leading me today?”

“I can’t believe you said that,” she said. 

“I am only stating the obvious,” Adam said, a list in hand. 

“Well—I am asking myself some questions. There’s a lot I have to do.”

“Did you sign the paper?”

She was quiet. “You do have a lot on your plate, don’t you?”

“I’ll sign it,” she said. “I didn’t do enough in that case. I should have been at the interrogations.”

Adam ignored this. That had been a big invasion of her apartment. “I want you to be attentive—are you prepared for this?”

“I can walk up to a door and ask a question,” she said, moodily. 

“Say that again but with a smile.”

Claire looked out into the distance. Motion had caught her eye. Some boys were flying together, throwing a ball back and forth. She always liked that power. Adam looked as well. 

“I have an obvious joke-.”

“Fly ball.”

“No,” he said and then didn’t tell her. “I didn’t think I’d ever see that.” 

“You didn’t?” she questioned, softly. Well, she had thought…"You know, I haven't flown in awhile. Have you?" she asked, hinting. His eyes widened slightly and he was tempted. Then he looked back at the paper. 

“I would, but we need to focus. We need to choose them well. One weak link is all it takes.”

“Can you really judge someone that quickly?” Claire asked, curious. “I mean, they might not know at the moment-

“I can.”

He had made this work before. 

“You’re going to have to be the one to ask, however," he continued. 

“Some of them might not want to see me,” she said. It was an observation. 

“Who wouldn’t want to see you?”

She bit her lip in mock thought. 

“Right. Well. Don’t fret. You’re lovely,” he offered. She looked at the papers in his hands.

“Can I see those papers? Can you give those to me?”

He handed them over, smug at forcing her to participate. 

She took the list and ran. “What?” he yelled. “You.”

And he was after her. Claire thought it was about time to annoy him and she grinned, running as fast as she could. She made it past several blocks but when she turned the corner, he caught her, wrestling her to the ground. 

She laughed.

It was a little too easy at times. 

***

It was harder other times. 

Her first year of knowing him: information popped up that he was back to it again. Biological warfare. Someone was. 

Angela had been on the phone with her, instructing her to lead her to a place where he could be properly interrogated. Claire had hesitated. 

“I don’t think this is him this time.” 

In the morning, pictures came that showed that he had been around the place suspected of it. Claire kept taking his calls, as to not alert him to any suspicions. It kept being developed, and pictures kept coming. It came to the point where they were going to go ahead.

She called him. 

“Something wrong? Your voice is very strange.” He picked up on it quickly. 

“Something is,” she said. “They think you’re at this factory where they’re making a version of that…”

He was quiet. 

“There’s pictures,” she said, her voice hardening. 

“So they are getting better at catching on,” he said. “You need to buy me time.”

“Excuse me?” she burst out. 

“I’m this close to getting it from them. I’m this close. Give me time.”

Did he… “You want to take stop this, you want to put it somewhere safe?” 

“I’m going to bring it to them.”

“I wouldn’t bring it to them, if I were you,” she said. 

“Then I'll bring it to you.” 

She had been frozen on the phone in fear. She had his location, he had been on the phone long enough. 

“Don’t tell them where I am,” he said. “Show me a little trust.”

“This is—you don’t have a good record with, with this kind of thing." 

“I know you have a little family, Claire, during this time.” As if that was enough. She stopped. Her dad was waiting on the other line. 

“I believe you. That’s so strange,” she said, frustrated beyond belief. 

“So you’ll buy me time,” he said.

“If I’m wrong, and you do something,” she said, forcing the words out and there were full of steel and fire. “You’d better-.”

“Run. I have no doubt. I have to go,” he said and hung up. She followed suit and left the apartment, quickly. Claire had walked around in a daze, hiding in shops, thinking that she’d know soon whether it was wrong or not. 

She’d really know. Through all these years, that was the worst day of her life: she'd include any future events in this one. 

He returned it, with a ‘you know, it’s odd that someone would leave that lying around. You’d think it would have been destroyed completely.”

She glared at him. 

“How does this possibly displease you?” he demanded. “I think I’ve earned the benefit of the doubt now.” 

Her look softened. “You didn’t tell me about it before,” she said, sadly. “I could have helped.”

He stared at her, opened his mouth—“Well, there is it,” he said. “Do what you like.”

And left. 

Where had it come from? Adam tried to say it had been planted to attract his attention. Claire tried not to think too much about it, sometimes. Out of any of it, any of the potential twists of who did what to start this. She was apart from her family now. Didn't he want that, even to prepare her for the future? She chose not to believe that. 

It had been a reason to betray him: one he had given her himself as well. That didn't scare her. 

What scared her most of all it was the leap she took. That leap. 

It had been too dangerous. Thankfully he never talked about it himself and things went back to some weird definition of normal.  
***

“I’m glad your grandmother is alive.” 

Claire looked up from the list. He looked completely innocent, and she took a sip from her drink. 

“That’s nice,” she offered. 

He drummed his fingers on the table. “It is. I think this new world was the worst thing that could have happened to her.”

Claire looked at the names. She had heard this one before.

“It’s a kick in the teeth,” he said. “On that, we can both agree.” She waited, unsure of where he was going.

“With all these different energy sources suddenly available, there won’t be another war for a while. Well, theoretically. I thought about that myself you know. But…I remember watching you.”

He trailed off. 

“I didn’t think of anything like ending world hunger,” she offered, almost as an apology. “I just closed my eyes and jumped.”

“But you could jump,” he said. “You showed yourself to everyone.” 

He smiled at her. “I can handle a kick in the teeth better than she can.” The switch in tone confused her so she let it go. 

“What’s a kick in the teeth is not being allowed to try a serial killer who should be in jail?”

“I have promised you that will be taken care of. In time. We have that on our side.”  
As did Sylar but—it was different, she thought. Adam put a hand on hers.  
“Think on the list.” 

“I have a question.”

“Oh good,” he said, dryly. 

“Why did you mark this one off?” she asked. “I thought he was a good candidate.”

“A good candidate,” he repeated. 

“Yes, a good candidate,” she repeated back at him. “He seems like he was a good person, enthusiastic.”

“And good home life?” Adam asked, as if that was her only reason. It was a big reason. 

“He has two kids so I think he’d be protective of other people.”

Adam was shaking his head. “No. He’d fold if he thought of them during the event. I’ve been through this one before, it cowed the lot of them before. All of them.”  
Including her grandparents, yes, she heard him. 

“If you’re sure,” she said. She then frowned. “This is safe, right?”

“I promise, I’ll personally go over every last detail.”

“Do, because sometimes I—I just don’t remember enough, you know, in the right way to pay attention. You do.” 

“Ah, yes, we’re both such unfeeling creatures,” he said, dryly and then elbowed her. She looked over at him and smiled a little. 

“We are doing the right thing?” she questioned. 

Adam nodded, looking at the news again on the TV. Now she started to become more excited again. She thought it had to be right. It made her nervous on some level but everyone had wanted to help once they talked about it. 

“How are you going to announce the results?”

She was surprised. 

“Oh you’re kidding,” he said. “We’re doing this out of the kindness of our hearts, then.”

“I just want to do this without a camera,” she said. Adam watched her for a moment. 

“Do you remember when we caught the group after your blood?” 

Claire did remember. It had been one of the most dangerous things she had done, and she had been thrilled from the success. It wasn’t dangerous because it was –dangerous. It was dangerous because it was a trick: Adam would offer to give her to her pursuers in for some reward or another, for the power of it, and she would be given off—to have everyone who had conspired against her to be present. Well, most of them anyway. 

The danger was in if it was a double-cross. Well, you know. 

She had been let out within a day. For a moment or two, she had felt a twinge of –not fear—of doubt. But it paid off. She had been right to trust him in this plan that had taken a year of gaining their trust while supposedly gaining hers. 

“I remember,” she said. 

“I enjoyed that.” 

She was strangely, weirdly—happy about it. “Me too.”

He looked over, half smiling. “Well,” she said. “…No, I did.” 

“We should do it again, sometime.” 

Claire was aware of reality. Of what she’d begin to have to do increasingly. 

There was a new cult leader rising in the news, and he thought specials were better than normal people. Openly. It'd be a problem she'd have to take care of. 

She was oddly content, about her ability to stop someone now. It was never questioned by him, and she was comfortable with it. She knew she could do whatever was necessary. She was glad he was around. 

“It’s a relief that holidays aren’t for a bit.” 

“Yeah,” Claire said. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

“Depends. My divorce will be finalized by then.”

Claire didn’t freeze. Her eyes kept reading. She looked up, frowning. He was looking at the TV once more. 

“Why so soon? I thought you were happy,” she asked. Claire never understood why he’d want to get involved with someone’s life. Diana was thirty-five. They had married when she was twenty-six. That’s a good chunk of her life there: Claire was too hurtful. She had been hurt and then she had hurt others, and she didn’t think it was right to do. It had been a huge problem, one of theirs. 

“You think who I am with is an ethical issue?” Adam had asked. Claire nodded. “Care to debate it? What’s your reasoning? I feel that no one soul can fully know another, as you undoubtedly found out yourself, and privacy is an undeniable right if it is not harmful. Is that your argument, the issue of potential harm?”

“It just makes me upset,” Claire said. 

“…Well they say brevity….” He paused, looking at her face. “All right. We’ll see how it goes when you ruin my relationship and her happiness.”

Her happiness of course, happy to be with him. This was half of his argument, which she can’t really bear to remember. It was wrong to her, but she could never get the woman alone. She could only do this much without doing something wrong to help.  
Diana had thought the ability was ‘cool’.

“Do you?” Adam asked. 

I’m completely open to—well, I’m open to it.” Claire looked over at him. 

“Oh yes I was also previously married,” Adam said casually, clearly charmed. “What?” Diana asked, frowning. 

“I’d better go, you two have things to talk about,” she said. Adam shot her a look  
And Claire guessed she had to live with the fact that oh well—that was part of an agreement and she wouldn’t have said it. Now they were getting divorced. 

“Was she really not cool with it?” Claire asked now, cautiously. 

“She wants children.”

“Oh,” Claire said softly.

“I didn’t mind. I had one wife kill me, you know.”

Claire looked up and he looked back at her now. She raised her glass. “I had a guy I liked kill me,” she said. He toasted with her. 

Then there was that. “She still has time,” she said. 

“My thoughts exactly. You don’ t have to commensurate with me on this one. I think you’d make you a fine mother.”

“That makes me think you’re drunk,” she said. “But I know better so.” She gave him a warning glance. He smiled back at her. 

“I blame you for this you know.”

She did freeze at that, didn’t know why. She felt a little wave of sickness—that was the strange part. 

“I have never had a divorce in my life,” he said. “She won’t believe I’m truly dead.” 

“That sucks for you,” she said dryly. He patted her on the head. 

She went back home, elated from the day. She kept the elation until it came time to call him.  
To double check on other things. 

She put it off until she went to bed, with her headphones on. 

*** 

 

The day arrived too soon. 

For everyone still trying to get out and everyone trying to remain inside, it had arrived too soon. 

They were prepared. Claire had gotten there early, helping the group on their timing in the small hotel near the shore. The problem was, it was a pretty big group: however everyone was dead serious, trying to work on their timing. Then Adam had shown up.  
She had to admit, she admired what he could do when he was among people. She had watched for a few hours and then… then that she realized she had nothing to truly do. 

Claire was here for support and direction, of course, but now it seemed a little…she had been listening in the lower lobby to the storm gather outside. Should she do something more to help? 

“I know Claire’s wandering around here somewhere, pretending to be busy.” 

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. He never quit. He stopped in the doorway, and wandered towards the chairs. She tried to be quiet. 

He pulled the couch all the way back. She looked up, playfully, and she was struck by how…exuberant he looked. 

“How is it going?” she asked. “Are they ready?” 

“I did the best I could,” he said. “Which means they’re perfection. It wasn’t easy, I had to stop several of them from exchanging Facebook addresses.” 

“Do you know what Facebook is?”

“Know? I have one. And I’ll be very hurt if you don’t return my friendship.”

“You don’t have a Facebook,” she said, hoping. 

“Not at all. Why were you hiding down here?”

“I’m...a little tired,” she decided to admit it. “I’ve been listening to all that power outside. I can’t believe I’m a part of something like this.”

“Well,” he said, looking to the side. “I always wanted someone like you to be a part of it.”

Her tongue tied up. She was glad that he offered her his hand to help her up, to avoid the silence, and she took it. 

“I know you’ve been tired,” he said, leading her up the stairs. “I have known that since the riots. But when you see this, everything will snap into focus. I promise you.” 

She followed him further up the stairs and this sound…she kept close to him. A TV was running in the room to the side: they still had reception, that meant everything had been thought down to the finest detail. Like always with him. 

“We don’t want their help. People have no dominion over nature. Start things like this, and next they’ll want to be soldiers.” 

Adam gave the TV the British version of the finger. Claire laughed in surprise. She was starting to feel excited about this idea. He took her to the highest conference room and pointed. She saw a wave as tall as this building rolling towards them. 

She looked at Adam. He looked at her. And they both laughed as the wave crashed against nothing. 

“This is amazing,” she breathed.

He smiled, and it was slightly different from his usual one. 

“It’s time,” he said and stepped closer, and she thought something could…she looked down.  
“Do you want some drinks?” she asked. 

“To celebrate?” he thought about it. “Very well but hurry. I don’t want you to miss anything.”

She nodded, wondering what was wrong with her. Because something deeply was. She wandered down to the lobby and saw the rest of them all lined up. They had assigned leaders and everyone knew their place. 

She grabbed the nicest bottle of wine, or what she thought was nice. He probably had his own opinion. He was always-

“Let’s kick this storm’s ass!”

She turned, frowning, because it sounded very young. This was from one of their younger candidates, a girl who was, in Adam’s words, desperate to fulfill her potential. And it wasn’t dangerous if it had worked before so well. He knew what he was doing. 

“You guys want to work on our timing again?” 

All these people were the powerful ones. They were the ones with the ability, and they seemed confident at the current success of being safe inside the building. In fact, a few were celebrating and laughing. 

She looked to see someone in the corner of the room, bent over and quiet. Claire walked over and looked down at him. This was one of their main players: his force field could drain the energy out of anything, and any kind of energy applied. Right now, it looked like it was draining him. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” Claire asked.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I said I’d do this and I’m ready.”

Claire sat down beside him, putting the bottle aside. “You are ready. You’ve practiced, I’ve seen you,” she said, smiling. “Your ability is one of the best here.”

He laughed under his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I’m not a mind-reader,” she added, to take the edge off.

“Do you not hear that thing?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she said slowly, “but you can protect yourself and now you can-.”

“Protect others, I know, you two said that before. You’re in here, safe and sound, and you can’t even get hurt. I have to walk out there, and now I can’t back out because we’re in the middle of it. I will do it, but I’m just scared okay?”

She was stunned because she hadn’t…why hadn’t she realized? They all acted confident, and many were, but this was that something more. 

“Your name is Danny, right?”

He scoffed. “Yeah,” he said. “Glad you remembered.”

“I’m going to go out there with you,” she said. 

He looked up in surprise. “You’re right,” she said softly. “I should be out there too. We’ll hold hands and get through this together. And we will. Okay?”

He started to smile, to sit up. 

“Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” 

Claire nodded and waited beside him for the signal. 

***

It was going perfectly like Adam had said it would. 

The first pair, connected by a rope—more for psychological comfort than anything else--went out into the howling storm of pure blackness and violence and was unharmed. Then the next. Then the next. 

“Our turn,” Claire said, fastening the rope around her, and took Danny’s hand. He didn’t move. She smiled encouragingly and he closed his eyes and held up one hand, preparing to use his ability. 

She went slowly, step by step, and looked at the world. It was amazing, and soon this would all be over. 

Claire

There was a voice in her head that should startle her. She was now used to telepaths.  
Claire, he wants you back here 

Tell him one of the people got nervous and I’m handling it .

Claire kept her eyes peeled through the shadows. 

What do you think you are doing? 

The telepath had linked them up. She sighed. I’m just helping him, he got scared. We’re almost there.

And they were: Danny was going to be in the middle. Trees and debris were filling the air and bouncing harmlessly off the barrier. Now the person in front would change off with Danny and he’d hold it. Then he can start-

Claire, if you don’t come back, I’m calling it off. And you know what that means.  
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder. Did he mean he’d let all these people die to…  
“We have to hurry,” she told Danny. That building was completely gone from sight now. He was making her unable to think! She ignored it, they were five steps away. Danny changed off and held it just fine. The motion of the hurricane would stop once he did his thing.  
Claire

The ice in that tone. 

Stop, it’s fine, he’s-.

She saw the debris coming, a huge uprooted tree framed in this nightmare of blackness and waves and sound and she didn’t flinch. 

Danny’s hand gripped hers tightly and his hand shook, as if to ward off the tree as a reflex.

“N-!” But that was all she got out. Her body was slammed back by the force of the world falling on her and it went to a familiar empty black. 

*** 

Claire came to in a nightmare. 

She was under water in a tumult of motion. It was like she was flying a million miles an hour. Terrified, she knew there was no way to get to the surface, she couldn’t even see the surface and it was hard to think at all. She didn’t make it a long time.  
She drowned. 

And came to. The full horror hit her as her lungs started to burn again—this she could feel. She tried to move but something weighed her down. She looked through the darkness, obscured by salt, and saw the body attached to her. 

He was weighing her down. 

She tried to move her hand, and found going with the current—

She came back, a sharp pain—she wanted this to stop—she had two syringes. She grabbed at her coat and held on. The current went with her and she felt something—smashed, and –  
She came back. 

Oh god. She-choked back up water into the damn ocean. Oh fuck. 

And one syringe in her side. Embedded. Whole. Her only chance was to get there. She was fading and there was only one lull as they sank together. She took the syringe full of her own blood and using the rope, pulled him towards her. She stabbed and it made contact—then it was gone, torn out of her hand. 

She didn’t know—she was burning out again. She didn’t know if she’d come back again, or if she wanted to. The rope was cutting into her skin and she’d have to –she didn’t know if --

There was motion underneath her and suddenly she was jerked into some kind of air. He had forced a force-field. 

And Claire knew that she was just lucky enough that he had caught her in it. It certainly wasn’t planned. He was staring straight ahead and he was about to lose it again. She reached for him again. 

“Push us back up,” she said. 

“I can’t!”

It started to flicker again, and she grabbed his face. “Do you want to die again? You will go back up. Do you want people to die because of you?!”

“I can’t do that!” he said. It was about to collapse again. Claire had to make a decision to save them both based only on instinct. She got her footing and rushed him, and put her strong renewed hands on his neck, gritting her teeth and applied pressure as hard as she could. 

“You will,” she said. It didn’t have to be a further threat. He started to push frantically, quickly, and Claire was lucky this force field protected him from his own speed. They burst to the surface and she was flung onto the ground, on a calming beach.  
Claire looked up, at the clearing sky. She was still hooked: she undid the belt. She reached over and saw him hunched over, shaking. The trauma a level she could—just almost—relate to. Claire had done this to him. 

She reached out her hand to apologize. She didn’t know if she could explain the reason why. He pulled away, still curled up. She didn’t think he’d get over it for the rest of his life. But she wasn’t the one to do comfort. 

She saw a group racing towards her. 

“She’s here, she’s okay!” 

Claire didn’t want them to rush her. She stood up on her own, brushing back her hair. The first person ran to her and she directed him to Danny. Continued to do so until it was just her and Rebecca, a clairvoyant. 

“I was trying to find you,” she said. “You kept--.”

“Dying,” Claire said. “I tend to do that.”

The girl frowned. “He wanted us to just focus on finding you. He’s gone now,” Rebecca said, puzzled.

Claire couldn’t believe it for a moment. Then she could. She wasn’t surprised by anything but the hurt, which was intensely bright before she tramped down on it. 

“I’m going to get ready to leave myself,” Claire said, distantly, and walked, still dripping among the debris toward the hotel, ignoring the eyes on her. 

*** 

Claire got into the bed of the hotel without drying off and closed her eyes. 

She was glad no one had bothered her, glad he was gone. She heard the distant cheers and focused on that alone. They had stopped it and if she was honest with herself, there would be no reason for Adam to stay. The sounds weren’t even in her ears anymore, only the sound of her heartbeat. And breathing. Breathing was good. 

Claire was used to be alone now and she didn’t need anyone to be here to see her like this. She was happy with it. 

At least she could rest. 

***

“Wake up.”

Claire jolted awake and saw Adam standing by the bed, the light on. 

“We need to have a problem, you and I.”

She rose up a little on the bed. “Can it wait until the morning?”

He stared at her, his expression completely composed, hands in his pockets, and just his whole being made her—so this was it. They had said it was coming and here it was. It wasn’t in the form she had thought it’d be in but all right. 

He opened his mouth, and if he asked her if she was all right, she'd scream. 

“I thought you left,” she said, coldly, quickly. 

“I did. I came back." 

"Why?"

His face grew stony.

She turned her back on him, and there was a moment where anything could have happened. Claire didn't think she cared either way. He moved to sit on the bed and she felt his eyes on her. 

"I don't know how to care for you," he said. She kept her eyes closed. "I'm fighting my worst instincts as currently it felt like a betrayal to me. It is, in fact, a betrayal. I don't enjoy that feeling. As you know. You went against me."p>

Okay, so it'd go badly for her. All right, she could take whatever. 

She didn't care. She never really did. Naturally he'd be mad. He was mad, in fact, furious. She felt that much because he was. And she had isolated hereself again, and she felt bad and-

"Oh for-Are you all right?" he demanded. 

She turned to tell him off because it was said in such a way--but it didn't turn out quite how she planned. 

"Yes!" she yelled, and her voice broke, her eyes watered. It just broke on her, and she was laying there on the bed and she felt small but she kept her eyes on him, staring up at him in a challenge. 

Then something changed in him, and it was apparently a surprising change, but his expression softened and he (impulsively) wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close into an embrace. And she thought she would have fought that, but she couldn't-

She was lost, disarmed by the gesture, and then she let go. Broke. Grabbed at his jacket with clawed hands and cried into his shoulder. 

He didn't say an comforting words and she was grateful for that, and in the mix of it all, she felt something change. It felt like falling but she didn't know what it was and it was frightening at the same time. 

"I'm sorry," she admitted--seeing it all. The riots, the plan she should have nixed, with all those people at jeopardy, her own family--and then Adam himself (who wouldn't like the people comparison) but after all that, though she couldn't take the responsibility for making a mistake, it must have been ...awful to watch. She tried to think, for a moment, how she would feel if roles were reversed. And it was crushing, to think she could understand and take all his years for herself. 

"I'm just not good for people," she said, wetly. It used to be so the opposite. 

"Well," he said, whispering in her ear. "You aren't alone in that."

She pulled back but didn't want to move away. She was tired, after being so scared. She had been scared. 

"I was only mean because I was afraid."

He looked away for a moment, as if he understood that too. 

"Tell me what you'd like me to do," he said. "I won't know."

"Stay," she said, vulnerably. "If you can. Like this."

That was the true question. Could he? She had always been this way, and she remembered he had seemed to be okay--had liked it once. Now could he, after it all? 

He moved and lowered them both on the bed, arms around her. He was quiet but here, very much here. And so was she. 

Finally, with the waves of the ocean fading, she fell asleep, knowing he'd be here in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I added a bit more at the end for an edit--just because it seemed to miss something--so I gave it that something I hope. :)


End file.
